As It Is In Heaven
by LambchopMagee
Summary: Malachi is ages old, and has seen many battles. Little did she know she'd be involved in many more concerning her own kind. And that she'd be seeing HIM again. Azazel/OC
1. Introducing Malachi

Here's a new Azazel story from yours truly. (:

It is in no way connected to A Demon's Heartache. But my friend Rylee still has her own character in it, which doesn't come in until much later I'm sorry to admit, but you get the idea. I figured I should start writing some of my new ideas for Azazel stories, because there are just so many different mutations to choose from that I'd love. SO MANY CHARACTERS IN MY HEAD.

Anyways, I'm still doing character info as the intros.

I actually drew my character and will be drawing Rylee's, and am working on editing them on the computer so they will look SUPER AWESOME, so you can just SEE what they look like, to help out. But I have no idea when those will be finished. It took me an hour just to do one wing. Dx

**MARVEL OWNS THE COOL SHIT, I own Malachi and Rylee owns Alice.**

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**Name:** Malachi. (Mal-uh-kai)

**Age:** born in 623 BC, but looks around 25-30.

**Height:** 5'6"

**Weight:** 112 lbs.

**Hair:** Platinum blonde dreadlocks that reach mid-back, but in the front, the bangs reach slightly underneath her eyebrows. (In the First Class era and Trilogy era, her bangs are dyed black, and the underneath in the back is black.) It's usually kind of messy, and always kept down.

**Eyes: **Golden pupils that are usually dilated and brown irises. (Think of the angels' and demons' eyes in Constantine.)

**Skin: **Tanned skin, and many tattoos. Many are verses from the Bible (and are the original sayings, because she was there when it was first put together) written in Arabic, and codes she lives by, some Japanese and Chinese symbols that mean something to her, and an identification number from the Holocaust (explained within the story).

**Body type: **Fit, but averagely skinny with some curves. Toned arms and legs, but not SUPER muscular.

**Fashion Style: **

_Biblical times- _usually robes of red or white with usually a blue sash.

_In between biblical times and late 1700s- _anything high in fashion that was comfortable. She spends most of her time in India and America at that time, so think of bright colors (usually blue, but sometimes seen in grays and deep reds) and extravagant outfits.

_1800s- _usually seen in black men's trousers and baggy beige men's dress shirts.

_Early 1900s- _switches to tight pants, but sticks with baggy dress shirts and get's a worn out military jacket two sizes too big.

_1940s (During the war, basically.)- _switches to tight shirts, but keeps the jacket.

_1960s- _starts wearing short tight dresses (think Austin Powers fashion), and still has the military jacket.

_Any time after that- _usually a goth/punk fashion, consisting of short dresses and skinny jeans, and, of course, has that lovely old military jacket.

**Make-up:** usually only wears mascara, and sometimes a gray eye shadow.

**Personality: **Laid-back, headstrong, smart ass, friendly, chipper, serious but fun, only applies herself when she wants to. (My friends helped me here, this is Amber's description of me: **Think of an explosion of death with cats puking rainbows and a shuffling skeleton in the background.** Since my characters are always based off of me, I figured it'd be good to ask a friend what I was like. That's the result.) Bad temper at times.

**Powers: **Four giant crimson red wings. Immortal. Rapid Healing. Super speed. Super strength. Skilled flier. Skilled swordswoman, but uses two large knives usually strapped to her thighs (hidden under dresses, once she stops wearing dresses she puts them at her lower back under her shirt). High intelligence. Receptive to any language/can speak any language fluently. Heightened senses.

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I don't really want to put the bio on here, since it's basically the whole outline, so be waiting for the chapters to find out all the interesting juicy shit. :D

I LOVE YOU GUYS, SRSLY.

(:


	2. The Crusades

Chapter one, here we go.

I'm sorry if there are things historically off or off from the comics, but alas, I DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING. It is just a story, LOLOLOL.

**Marvel owns all the Marvel-y goodness, I own Malachi.**

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Nothing good ever came out of war. I had seen battle after battle, watched empires be built and then saw as they crumbled, and all I could see was suffering. It amazes me how the slightest impurity in life can lead to fighting. It also irritates me.

I now sit on a cliff, overlooking what was being called "The Crusades". Blood and mangled bodies littered the hills and grasses, staining every bit of Earth in the area.

I sighed, pushing my long platinum blonde dreadlocks back out of my face. My golden eyes showed nothing but disgust and boredom.

There weren't many survivors on the field this day, and my ears picked up the sounds of the dying soldiers. My eyes shut tightly, and I leaned my head back and forth, popping my neck. My four crimson wings lay limp behind me, the feathers lightly waving in the wind.

I opened my eyes, only to see a figure on the cliff across the way. From what I could tell, he must be a part of a group of _people_ called the Neyaphem. They consisted of demonic looking mutants. I belonged to the Cheyarafim. We were the angelic looking ones. I've met quite a few in my travels, many having one or two wings. I met a man with six wings on the coast of Turkey. I also met a woman in Persia with wings of an owl. The coloring was beautiful.

All in all, people have been confusing the Cheyarafim and Neyaphem with real angels and demons. As coincidental as it may be, it is not true. I have met many mutants in my days, most of them appearing "normal" or "human", and some like myself, and the fellow across the battlefield.

From my perch, I could see his spaded tail swing back and forth. His red skin almost glowed in the bleak sunlight, barely peaking through the clouds. The rays were unnaturally bright for such a cloudy, dreary day. He was crouched down, his eyes focused upon the turmoil below. Even from my distance away, I could tell he was enjoying it. A warrior I may be, but to take delight in others' suffering is revolting.

A sharp whistle emitted from my lips, and I caught his attention, my wings spread to their full extent. I watched as his gaze locked with mine. I spoke in Latin, a popular language used among the Cheyarafim.

"What brings you here on such a day, stranger?"

I could barely hear his quiet chuckle over the groans and screams from the dying soldiers in the gorge.

"Enjoying the weather! I do love the smell of carnage in the morning," he yelled back. His tone was formal and casual at the same time, which threw me off. It was unusual, to say the least.

My head tilted in curiosity, and I stood up. My wings fell back into a limp position, and I saw him stand as well.

But then he was gone.

All that remained was a cloud of smoke.

"Tell me, why haven't I seen you around before?"

I jolted in surprise at the sound of his voice, not even a foot behind me. I turned to face him, and our eyes locked once more. My wings folded up, and I took a step forward. I have never before seen eyes so blue, so _cold_. There was a smirk on his face that made me want to hit him. His accent made it clear he was from farther north, and much more inland.

"Because unlike you, watching people kill each other isn't a _hobby_ for me," I shot at him sarcastically.

"Isn't it wonderful, though?" he smiled and walked to the edge of the cliff, taking in the view of all of the death before us. He sighed with delight and looked up at me.

"You are disgusting."

"And what does that make you?"

I said nothing and walked up beside him, my white robes and teal sash flowing behind me. We were quite the contrast. My almost white hair to his raven black, my tanned skin to his vivid red, my golden eyes to his ice blue, my wings to his tail… We were complete opposites. Even his clothing differed from mine. He wore dark robs with metal armor fitted to him, and what appeared to be a goat's skull sitting on his shoulder.

"What's your name?" I asked in attempt to change the subject.

He chuckled and took a step toward me, "Azazel. And what do I call you?"

I hesitated. Did I want to tell him?

"Malachi."

He scoffed slightly, "Such a strange name for such a beauty."

"And your name is so much better?"

At this he laughed. I stared at him, unenthused. He acts as if all of this were a game. It obviously doesn't affect him that thousands of good men are slaughtering each other not even a mile away from where we stood.

He stopped laughing and studied the tattoos that littered my arms, neck, and chest. I had many on my back, legs, feet, and even my lower stomach and sides, but those were not visible to him.

"What kind of tattoos are those, little one?"

Now it was my turn to scoff. _Little one?_

"It's Arabic. Codes to live by, bits of prayers, the works."

He chuckled and reached over, tracing a finger along a tattoo on my arm. I shivered and glared at him.

"Interesting."

"If you know what's good for you, you won't touch me again."

I could almost hear his eyebrow go up. He moved closer to me, and I could feel his hot breath run down my neck as he whispered into my ear, "I guess I don't know what's good for me then," and lightly touched my cheek.

My reflexes happened to be quicker than his, and I had him in a headlock in mere seconds.

"I warned you."

He laughed as best as he could as I choked him, "Fiesty, aren't we?"

I leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "You have no idea," and threw him over the cliff.

Yet again, in a poof of smoke, he was gone. I heard the sound of swords being unsheathed, so I quickly unsheathed my knives and turned in time to deflect his attack. We stood in that stance for at least five minutes, and I took the time to admire his swords. They were beautiful. Ragged and well used, but beautiful all the same.

"Quite the reflexes, angel," he chuckled.

I glared and chuckled darkly, "How original. Call the girl with wings _angel._ It's only fitting, right?"

At this he smirked, "Of course it is, _angel,_" and he winked.

I snapped.

I pushed him away as hard as I could, and we began to battle. The metal of our weapons clashed over and over again, creating sparks. His smirk grew as we fought, and I have to admit, even I began to smile.

This was fun.

Our fight may seem pointless, but I don't enjoy being called a stupid pet name, or being hit on. My near-fiery temper didn't help, either.

We carried on for almost an hour. He had sliced off a good amount of feathers from my left wings, so when I got the chance, I pulled my wings into my back, where they were no longer visible. The cuts they came from healed up, and his head cocked to the side curiously. I took that chance to take a slice at his face.

Target hit.

He now fashioned a rather large gash on his left eye. _That's definitely going to scar._

I backed away as his hands flew to his injured eye. That would've been my chance to deliver a killing blow, but I didn't want to kill him. Fighting is simply too much fun. He raised his head and looked at me with his good eye, "You win this time… angel," and with a wink he disappeared into smoke again.

I huffed and shook my head, turning to look at the battlefield below. The remaining soldiers were slowly making their way out of the valley, all limping a different way.

I let my wings slide back out, hissing in pain as the wings that were hurt slowly healed up and the feathers re-grew.

I sighed again, "What a fruit." And with that I jumped from the cliff and glided my way to the nearest city.

\\\

And so they meet for the first time.

I realize Latin is a dead language, and I have no idea whether half of those words even existed at that time, but how about we play MAKE-BELIEVE! :D

K thnx.

(:

I hope this was all right for a first chapter, I'll be writing more tomorrow probably.

And do not fear, I am not dropping A Demon's Heartache.

I just need to get these other stories out of my head before I start throwing details into the wrong stories. You know? BAHAHA.

I wanted to catch more of Azazel's "ladies' man" attitude in this, and I hope I did it well.

Anyways, reviews are greatly appreciated. C:


	3. So Many Wars

Thanks for the reviews so far.

Someone mentioned Malachi is turning into a Mary-Sue?

I don't even know what the fuck that is. SO. I'm gonna keep writing it the way it spills out of my head, and if she's too "Mary-Sue"ish for you, stop reading. Okay? Thanks.

I'm sorry if I seem bitchy lately, I'm just moody.

Anyways, here's the next chapter. If you catch something off, which there probably is something, let me know. THANKS.

**Marvel owns everything except Malachi.**

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Thousands upon thousands of years passed. I never saw Azazel again. I should be thankful, I guess. But I can't help but admit that he's fun. It's been ages since I had a good fight like that. We were evenly matched.

I have been traveling through India for quite a few centuries now. I watched the Taj Mahal be constructed. The architecture is simply marvelous.

I've been thinking of traveling to a place called _America._ Europeans started settling there a while back. I have to be careful, though. I've caught word of a revolution beginning.

I mustn't miss it.

\\\

The year is now 1776, and I've succeeded in making sure this document called The Declaration of Independence was signed. It gave them freedom.

Freedom… What a thing.

I did my best to make sure all of the right people signed. I wasn't about to let these people suffer under British rule, if that's not what they want.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely **love** England. But Christ, if your settlements don't want anything to do with you anymore, let it go.

Anyways, I'm rambling.

\\\

After a few years, I moved to Canada, and settled into a nice little cabin.

I met the Howlett family. John and Elizabeth, and their son James. James fell ill a lot, and I was asked to help watch over him. He was an absolute dear. I vowed to be his "Guardian Angel."

Ha.

One night, Elizabeth told me I could go home, so I was making my way there through the woods. But I realized I had forgotten the books I had brought to read to James. I started making my way back to the Howlett estate, and I heard shouts.

"Oh no…"

I ran with lightning speed, making it just in time to see James stabbing Thomas Creed (Comic says Thomas Logan, but since in Origins it's Victor's dad, I thought it would fit to say it's Creed.) in the gut.

"James!" I saw Elizabeth crying on the floor by the stairs, and John's dead body lying next to her. Victor stood near me at the doorway, staring at James with wide eyes. James pulled his hands back. He looked scared and shocked. He moved his gaze to my eyes, and ran past me out into the woods. Victor ran after him, and I ran perpendicular from them. I needed to get to a place where I could fly to them.

I shot up into the sky, and landed in front of the two boys, folding my wings. The two of them stared at me in awe.

"You really are my Guardian Angel, aren't you?"

I laughed and knelt in front of James, "Yeah, you could say that. Now," I grabbed his shoulder and pulled Victor over, placing my other hand on his shoulder, "You two need to get the hell out of here. Run south, I'll fly above and make sure you get to safety."

They both nodded eagerly, and dogs' barks could be heard behind us. I looked over and saw lantern light in the distance.

"Go, run. Now!" They nodded and started running as fast as they could, and I shot back into the sky.

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How could a country start a war with its own people?

I've now seen sons killing fathers and vice versa, brothers killing brothers, and just all around slaughter. I don't know which is worse, the Crusades or this _Civil War._

What is wrong with people?

I've been trying to avoid the battles, and have been spending my time freeing slaves across the South.

I hang out around a plantation, learning the habits of the owners, the children, if there are any, and the pets, even. I then learn the schedule and job of every slave on the property. Then I plan a route safely out of the plantation and out into the surrounding woods or fields, helping them find their way North. I keep my wings hidden as I do this, though. I don't want to scare anyone.

It takes time, but it's worth it.

James and Victor joined the North, fighting for the right cause. They seemed to have developed healing abilities similar to mine, so we went our separate ways. I had been watching over them for years, but they're grown up now.

I do keep a watch on them when I can, though.

\\\

I watched as Jimmy, as Victor and I had started calling him, and Victor made their way through the war, but now at the turn of the century, a new war was starting.

They wanted to fight in it, of course.

I may not be glued to their backs anymore, but I wouldn't be much of a Guardian Angel if I didn't keep in touch.

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It is now 1939, and yet another war has begun.

I lost contact with Jimmy and Victor sometime in the '20s. Now I just walk the streets of the major cities in America, taking in the sights.

My hope is that the war doesn't come to America.

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Japan has bombed Pearl Harbor. The Americans are in on the latest war.

I'm on my way to Poland. I've heard of the death camps, labor camps, and the like.

Fucking disgusting.

I'm going to try to liberate the Jews and Gypsies, as I did with the African slaves.

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I've been spotted. Wings out and everything.

Running. I've never run so fast in my life.

They've got dogs after me, and I don't know how many Nazi soldiers.

Fuck, they're catching up.

My increased speed is useless right now. I can't focus. I'm panicking. Scared, _terrified._

There's no telling what these monsters would do to me.

I need to focus. Focus on speed, focus on getting away.

**BANG.**

\\\

"Wo bin ich? (Where am I?)" I groaned.

I was hanging from the ceiling by my wrists, my feet dangling uselessly below me, barely touching the floor.

The lights turned on, so many so suddenly, that my eyes immediately shut tight.

"Sie passieren in meinem persönlichen Labor werden, in meinem Büro, im gleichen Camp haben Sie versucht, zu infiltrieren (You happen to be in my personal laboratory, in my office, at the same camp you tried to infiltrate.)," I heard a male's voice say not far from me. I also heard whimpers from someone much younger. I slowly cracked my eyes open, and my golden eyes met mischievous blue ones.

"Wer sind Sie? Warum bin ich gefesselt? (Who are you? Why am I chained?)" I tried with all my might to pull the chains from the ceiling, but to no avail, "Was hast du zu mir? (What did you do to me?)"

He chuckled and put on a charming smile, "Mein Name ist Klaus Schmidt. Sie sind gefesselt, weil ich nicht wollen, dass Sie weg, und ich betäubt Sie. Es ist nicht leicht zu wehren, wenn man kaum bewegen kann. (My name is Klaus Schmidt. You are chained because I don't want you to get away, and I drugged you. It's not easy to fight back when you can barely move.)

He walked towards me with what I recognized as a taser, "Nun, lassen Sie mich sehen diese Flügel. (Now, let me see those wings.)"

I stared at the taser, then looked over to see a teenage boy on a hospital slab. He had some sort of contraption on his face, and he was strapped down. He was looking back at me, fear in his eyes. I looked back at Schmidt and glared.

"Welche Art von Ungeheuer bist du? (What kind of monster are you?)" I whispered harshly.

He jabbed me with the taser, and I felt the electricity course through me. I screamed in pain, and my wings shot out.

He pulled the taser back and said into my ear, "Das Erschreckende Art. (The scary kind.)"

\\\

As the days passed being a lab rat for this fiend, I started talking to my new roommate.

Schmidt had just left for lunch, giving me the opportunity to speak.

"Hey, was ist Ihr Name? (Hey, what's your name?)"

He looked over at me from his slab and whispered, "Erik… Erik Lensherr… Was ist Ihre? (What's yours?)

"Malachi. Es ist schön, Sie zu treffen, Erik. Ich wünschte nur, es könnte in einem besseren Ort zu sein, (Malachi. It's nice to meet you, Erik. I only wish it could be in a better place.)" I chuckled quietly.

He agreed silently.

I started doing pull ups on my chains, and he stared at me curiously.

"Was machst du? (What are you doing?)"

"Fit bleiben, Wiedererlangung meiner Kräfte. Wir müssen hier raus, und gerade hängen hier gar nichts zu tun. (Keeping fit, regaining my strength. We need to get out of here, and just dangling here isn't going to do anything.)"

\\\

A few days later, I had heard the soldiers say they had run out of the drug they were using on me.

I tried to think of a way to get Erik and myself out of here. I couldn't leave him behind.

Whenever the soldiers would be away, I took the time to build up my strength.

We need to get out.

\\\

I got out. I'm not even completely sure what all happened. There was so much shouting.

I couldn't get Erik.

I'm so ashamed. I couldn't get him.

It's all a bit blurry, but I remember Schmidt coming in with some soldiers and taking Erik out of the room. He started calling for me, and I worked double time on ripping the chains out, screaming for Erik the whole time. I tugged and pulled, and finally was free. I fought through the few soldiers that were in there and ran through the door and into the hallway.

But there were more soldiers. So many. I was too weak to fight so much. Too much energy used to pull those chains. I'll be lucky if I can fly.

I ran back into the room and blocked the doors with filing cabinets and chairs.

I stopped where I was and thought, _Where are my knives?_

I booked it over to Schmidt's desk and rummaged through the doors. Bullets began flying through the door, and I looked quicker. I was hit by a couple of bullets, but not anywhere that could slow me down too much.

"Ah ha! Danke! (Thank you!)"

My knives have been found. Along with my faithful vintage British military jacket from the First World War.

The door was shot to almost nothing, so I hurriedly looked for an escape. By now I was in tears. I spotted a window and jumped through the glass, letting my wings shoot out and catch the air current.

I was out.

**BANG.**

A bullet shot through my top left wing, and I faltered. Whoever just shot that really hit the spot. My other three wings worked double time to keep me up, but I kept leaning left.

I flew for hours. I didn't want to rest. I had to keep focused and get as far as I could.

_Please be safe, Erik…_

I finally stopped on a coast in Ireland. I sat on the beach, watching the tide roll in. I was alone, it was probably about 3am. I scooted up closer to the tide, and let the water wash over my feet. The slightly chilled water felt great, and I sighed.

_Where to go now?_

The bullet wounds healed up only an hour ago, since I had been so focused on trying to stay in the air.

I scratched at the latest tattoo.

Schmidt insisted I be numbered like the rest of the poor souls being tortured and killed.

**672943.**

I glared at it and scratched more, wishing it would go away. Every time I see it now, I will think of Erik, and my failure to save him.

I sighed and stared at the irritated skin. Moving my gaze to the ocean, I tried to think of a place to go to after I rested up.

"…Maybe I should return to America."

\\\

So much covered in one chapter. Hahah. Sorry for all the time leaps, I hope you all could stick with it.

Anyways, I would love reviews.


	4. Welcome to Beat This!

So I was finally told what a Mary-Sue is, and now that I look at Malachi, she does seem to lean towards it, but I didn't do it intentionally. And this so far is only an introduction; the real story hasn't really begun yet. I just wanted to show how old she was, who she's met in her travels, and what things happened to her before First Class starts up.

Sorry for the inconvenience, I guess.

I also wanted to point out that I kinda made a mix of Azazel. I wanted to keep his Russian-ness, while also putting in how he's from Biblical times. So I said he was from the North and far inland. If you caught that, I'm proud of you. BAHAHA.

I have internet finally. Sorry for the wait, it's taken a month for me to get it.

I've been really distracted lately, as well, so sorry for that too.

And now, to continue.

**I own Malachi only.**

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_1962_

The last almost two decades have been uneventful and… _relaxing._

I've been living in an abandoned lighthouse in New Jersey, along the shore of the chilling Atlantic. There's a working bathroom, but the electricity is shot, so I've taken to the age old act of _building a fire. _

I don't know what it is about fire, but it will always amaze me. Much more than electricity ever will.

My diet has been put back on track from being starved in that _Nazi's _playground.

I've taken a job at the local music store, _Beat This!_ A silly name, but I guess it fits. The low paycheck keeps me fed and clean. Which is all I really need. Maybe I'll save up for a sofa, or a record player…

Speaking of work, I need to be getting there now. It's almost 8 o'clock.

\\\

Some of the strangest people walk through those doors.

A man with a bowler hat just walked in, and he had floral shorts on with a purple button-up shirt. Asked me about the weather.

So odd, yet so entertaining.

**DING**

"Welcome to _Beat This!_, do you need help looking for anything?" I asked the two gentlemen who just walked in.

"Yes, yes indeed," the shorter one replied and looked at my nametag, "Malachi, is it?"

I nodded, and he continued, "Could you show me where the Louis Armstrong records are?" I looked at his friend, who was reading the back of an Elvis album, and back at the shorter one.

"All right then, follow me," I said, setting down the record player I was fixing.

"Excellent," he smiled and trailed behind me, his friend slowly following behind us.

We walked to the back of the store, where the Louis Armstrong records were, and I gestured to them. "Here you are, sir. Anything else?" I asked politely.

He looked down at the records and began, "Actually, there's something my friend and I would like to talk to you about."

I raised an eyebrow, and my eyes shot from him to his friend a few times. "Okay, go on then."

He smiled at me and stuck out his hand, "Hello, my name is Charles Xavier," I took his hand hesitantly and he continued, "This here is my friend Erik Lensherr," the other man nodded at me with a small smile, "And we know who you are."

I dropped his hand immediately and backed away. I stared at the taller one Erik, and he looked over at Charles a bit confused.

"Erik? Erik Lensherr? Is that really you?" He raised an eyebrow and replied, "Yes, do I know you or someth—" He didn't get to finish because I had tackled him in a hug, "OH, ERIK, YOU'RE ALL RIGHT! YOU'RE ALIVE!"

Charles looked at the scene amused, "You know each other?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders best he could and I let go of him. "Do you not remember me?"

He squinted his eyes in thought for a moment, and cocked his head.

"…Malachi…" his eyes widened in realization, "Malachi! I remember now, you were there!" I threw a sad smile and nodded, and we hugged again.

Charles chuckled and spoke up, "Well since you two know each other, you wouldn't mind taking a walk with us when you get off work?"

I looked up at the clock and noticed how late it already was. In about ten minutes, this place was gonna be closed up.

"Looks like you won't be waiting too long, you can sit over at the counter for the next ten minutes if you like, I just have to clean up a bit. Since I seem to be the only employee here right now," I said, looking around the room, finally noticing that my fellow employees had already left.

"Sounds all right to me," Charles said, and the two of them made there way to the counter.

\\\

After I closed up shop, which was at about six thirty, we made our way to the local park, where I treated my fellow mutants to some ice cream cones.

"So let me get this straight," I started, taking a lick of my chocolate ice cream, "You two are putting together a team of mutants to find and kill Sebastian Shaw, or Klaus Schmidt as you and I know him," I motioned to Erik and myself, "And save the world?"

Charles looked up at the sky. "Mmmmm, yeah that about sums it up," he chuckled.

I laughed, "Well as long as that fucker dies, I'm game."

Charles's eyebrows raised in amusement, "To Richmond, Virginia, then."

\\\

"Malachi, I'd like you to meet my sister, Raven," Charles motioned to a very pretty woman with long blonde hair. I stuck my hand out, and she took it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Raven," I said, smiling.

She smiled back, "The feeling is mutual. Wow, your eyes are really neat!" She gasped and got closer to my face to examine them. I leaned away as a reflex and laughed. I had taken out the contact lenses I had started wearing when I got the job. So people wouldn't notice I was "different". Back in the day, you just didn't make eye contact. Nowadays, it's like you can't avoid anyone's eyes. Everyone studies everyone.

"Thank you, it came with the package," I chuckled softly.

"Malachi here has quite a number of little _gifts_," Charles patted my shoulder, "So, shall we introduce you to the rest of the gang? Raven, why don't you do the honors, I think Agent MacTaggert wishes to speak with Erik and I."

Raven nodded and grabbed my hand, "Come on, this way," she smiled.

I nodded and tagged along behind her, taking in the dreary sight of the CIA building.

_Too much white, if you ask me._

\\\

That's all for this chapter.

I'm slowly trying to de-Mary Sue my dear Malachi.

I've also been thinking of dropping this story.

Reviews please.


	5. AUTHOR'S NOTE

FOR ALL READERS

This is just a note to let everyone know I'm still alive and kicking, just taking a long break from writing fan fics. This is going to be posted on all of my current fan fics.

Anyways, thank you for the reviews and for reading my fan fics, I greatly appreciate it.

I will be writing on more topics now. I'm also going to rethink past ones. I'm not very happy with most of 'em.

I'm pretty much waiting for graduation, so after June and after I'm moved in at the new location, I shall be writing more often and with better…stuff.

Much love,

Becca.


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